


Empty Rooms

by Phelpshobbit, StaircaseScorpius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Art, Book: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Collaboration, Digital Art, Drastoria, Dreams vs. Reality, F/M, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Spoilers, Loss, Marolley, POV Draco Malfoy, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22575733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phelpshobbit/pseuds/Phelpshobbit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StaircaseScorpius/pseuds/StaircaseScorpius
Summary: Fall asleep, dream that I'm with you again, breathe you inEmpty rooms, combine our silhouettes, take me in.-Somewhere between dreaming and waking, Draco wanders the halls of Malfoy Manor and meets Astoria for one last dance. A Marolley collaboration - fic by StaircaseScorpius, art by Phelpshobbit/Marisdrawings.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	Empty Rooms

**Author's Note:**

> It's Marolley #3! This one is loosely inspired by the song 'Take Me In' by Jailbox, which gives me very Drastoria vibes. Fic by Rosie, art by Mari.

_I can't believe_  
_How my eyes won't let you go_  
_I see your face_  
_Why won't you call?_  
_And call me back to you_  
_'Fore you go home_

_Empty rooms,_  
_Combine our silhouettes,_  
_Take me in_  
_As time goes by_  
_I wish I'd known that our last kiss_  
_Was the kiss goodbye._

* * *

He wakes and he knows she is gone. Darkness drops like a curtain and waking is like falling, from the light of dreams. Cold fingers, cold heart. A breath mists in the empty room and he is moving, treading softly as if there was someone to hear. 

The house rests, dormant. Waiting for her. Everything waits for her. Wandering, he feels the dusty air make way for him, carrying him as though on a tide. One step, two steps, three, four. The hall, the stairs. The floorboards are solid and cool. Every hall and every door hold shadows and they whisper as he passes, fragments of conversations from years ago - the songs and laughter and love now etched in black and white across their home. 

One song calls to him from a distant room. The ground floor; closer to the earth, steady. He walks and walks and the walls grow closer, propelling him on. He is greeted by the towering arches of windows, but it seems darker out there than in here. Layers of dust lie like carpet and the plants lining the walls are curled and withered. The piano stands like a skeleton, its spine exposed to the air, expectant.

The light seems altered, and he turns to the door - it must be moving in the breeze - but it is closed. He turns in a circle and the room seems to revolve in the opposite direction, beginning to dance. There. At the piano, just visible, a haze of light. He knows it is her. It must be her. He approaches softly and wills her with all his heart to stay. In the darkness his vision is blurred and he blinks, desperate to see. He is dreaming, and he is more awake than he has ever been. The mirage shifts in and out of focus, rising as he reaches the piano, silver drifting in the air like sunlight behind a cloud. 

He remembers to breathe and the faintest trace of her perfume is near. He is made of stone and of longing. The light grows, perhaps, and when he reaches out his hand it is to find the coldest of embraces. She is next to him; he dares not move. A note falls like a drop of water in the furthest recesses of his mind, a quiet but clear sound sending ripples through his soul. A second, a third. He still pictures the piano keys rising and falling under her pale fingers, but he will not turn to see if they move the same way now.

Vision still clouded, he waits for her signal. The mist shimmers, holds, and starts to move. It is an echo, but it is enough. The gentle tilt of her cheek, the brush of a cold hand grazing his palm. A sigh in the darkness and she is here. He mirrors her - one step, two steps, three, four. They share one heartbeat now, so far distant but for a moment so close, turning together in an embrace that they have lived a thousand times. Are his eyes closed? He feels her breath on his neck, her hand on his shoulder; the way they always danced - before.

The music is steady and sure, but he is not. He knows the piano is silent, and yet… he tries not to think of that now. He drifts in her arms. Their steps pull them closer and she guides him, always more practised in her movements. He can almost sense her pressed against him and his mind is hazy, but through the shadows words present themselves to him. 

_I’m here, now. You always promised me one last dance, didn’t you?_

The aching, yawning hole in his chest is flooded with some feeling he can’t define, the knowledge that she is here and he cannot close their embrace. Please don’t let this be the last dance. He knows she is smiling. 

_Darling, we knew all along that one day, it would be our last. It’s time._

They are floating, and all the walls have fallen away. He still follows her - she never would let him lead - and their souls move in time with their feet. He wonders about his shadow. If he looked, would it be dancing alone? 

Her hand rests on his cheek and he shivers, trying to remember the familiar warmth he is so rapidly forgetting. More words float to the surface of his mind.

_Please don’t cry for me, not anymore._

Stay with me. You could.

_But I won’t. It’s not what I want, my love. And it’s not what you want either, you know this. It wouldn’t be enough._

The piano has fallen silent and a noiseless expanse stretches between them. He is still, and he sees nothing, but the path she has danced seems to be lingering in the light. This floor will never again know her footsteps; these walls will never again bear their silhouettes, combined in the moonlight. She is beside him now, her head against his shoulder, but she feels further away.

Why did you come back?

_For you. To tell you that you’re doing beautifully, and he’s growing up into more than I could ever have hoped. And so that now, we can know it is the last time._

He is held together by the finest of threads and they could break at any moment. From the corner, as though from a mile away, the piano. The pure, wavering note that begins their duet, the melody which is scored on his soul. The melancholy song washes over him and the decades are dropping away. They are twenty and holding each other close for the first time, a room of relatives barely hiding their sneers as they lose themselves in the music and begin to realise that they want this forever. Her hand is warm in his; he surrenders himself to her as she guides him slowly through the dance that would, in time, become as natural as breathing. 

The notes which had once been intertwined with life and laughter now ring out a requiem, echoing in the hollows of his heart. He counts down the steps and tries to extend his awareness to every nerve of his body, trying to feel her for a minute more. She is turning to ice in his arms and he could shatter alongside her. 

One step, two steps, three, four. It’s too soon. Please.

The silver shape of her in the dark is fading. 

_You’ll be okay, my love. You won’t be alone._

The last note fills all the space in the room. They have only seconds. 

Stay. There must be more.

_Darling, you were all I needed. One last dance._

Silence. 

The night is starless and black and he is a statue.

He opens his eyes and he knows she is gone. The room is still dark, and cold. The tall windows are in sharp focus now, and the only light reaching across the floor is from the dull moon outside. Quiet falls flat on his ears and his feet are heavy on the cold marble.

Draco speaks one word into the frail, empty night.

‘Astoria?’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed this short one and apologies for the angst (sorry, not sorry). 
> 
> We love reading all your comments, or you can find us on:
> 
> 💜 Mari  
> tumblr: marisdrawings  
> twitter: smolbus
> 
> 💜 Rosie  
> twitter/tumblr: trolleybitch


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